Los Angeles, Red. At the door of the house where we shot for two weeks the interiors of a family film with a script spectacular, was a Japanese maple leaves trailed slowly, autumn pace Angeleno. One day he had dropped a, the next day he had dropped three. As every street in every neighborhood look-city of this metropolis anonymous, we recognized the street from the house by the red tree, that made lantern halfway up and just gave us shade in the interminable pauses where we went to the door to the car we distinguish tinkling dominos pizza or were removed some the urge to smoke.
When night fell like drops in Los Angeles, Lead as a thick black light that is scattered on the asphalt with a dense haze tar texture, we stopped garnets see maple leaves and we confundíamos the park.
In Los Angeles fire trucks are red, as the color of tea and hibiscus berries Starbucks its own vessels or Christmas.
Gloria's hair, the makeup, which has an elongated scar perpendicular cuts that pierced his chest, up to the neck and the brand, in combination with green eyes listening and infinite value, of authority and wisdom, also red maple like leaves and takes collected with pale yellow ribbon with black polka dots on a cauliflower. In Los Angeles fire trucks are red, as the color of tea and hibiscus berries Starbucks its own vessels or Christmas. Red as an evening that quickly falls into red as Venice beach or Santa Claus dolls red eerily begin to proliferate in November for all shops and corners of this city mole.
Yellow. Beside Japanese maple had a lemon tree with lemons insulting both brightness and so orondez. Who would have thought that Californians were so bright citrus. Neither a shrill modernism movie could have imagined something like. Piel Gorda, smell extrapolated beyond its immediate perimeter, symmetry, belly, and a touch of family cupboard almost Zurbaran still life. Beautiful.
Green I love green. After a literature teacher explained the complexity of translating this verse high English Federico García Lorca: Green i love you green? Green, i want you, green? Green, green, I love you… It is not easy.
Beside Japanese maple had a lemon tree with lemons insulting both brightness and so orondez
In a sequence of the film three characters had to eat arugula. Then, the art director, a Sevillano frame overalls able to find garden orange rope at a hardware dangerous truck skid before Lincoln avenue, made a mozzarella salad, tomato and arugula and sun slipped squarely on the plate removing fired a green light that seemed an aurora borealis.
Once mounted in the truck's art, to trial without reference tree to guide us on our return in the black night, search the hostile streets of LA a tin box that served to contain memories of forty years ago. In this expedition traveled with us in the van (order of chocamiento backed passenger seat where my body lay): a snowman with giant plastic red scarf, three bikes, a bag of garden flags, a series of pulleys, wrenches, screws and tool boxes, a series of magazines called "Arizona", two towels, unclassifiable skeins of nuts and bolts, flip-flops, lint of different size and structure, straws, several papers in the wind that came and went through the head and feet and a notebook. Without lids. We ended up buying biscuits and chocolates Swedish American in a mall giant because they came in tin boxes with various representations of Santa Claus.
There is a restaurant in Malibu from whose tables you see the guts of pelicans flying at a constant distance from the surface waves looking for fish to snack.
Green in Los Angeles is also the leaves of the lemon grass and ubiquitous, Seller barnes & Nobel, not spectacular but decent supplies the needs of any citizen of Paris (.snif) California, and t-shirt my friend Blanca, studying the influence of global climatic changes in the structure of predator-prey Neogene mammal communities, wore when he stayed for brunch in Santa Monica pain quotidien and buy cheap jerseys Forever 21.
Blue, because sometimes you have to bend to the classics, especially in matters of references, are the sky and the sea. There is a restaurant in Malibu from whose tables you see the guts of pelicans flying at a constant distance from the surface waves looking for fish to snack. Blue is the tone of the buildings in Los Angeles, almost all of mirrors because they reflect the sky, that is what they see.
Almost Transparent Blue is angelina life. Fragile as glass or unbreakable as steel, one can choose the shade of blue you prefer and change the disposition of one day to another. Everything is possible in the dream that smells multicolor, to abandon unexciting lives and immersion in the adventure of light and heat Or is that nobody has ever shouted without thinking Loquillo siemprequiseiraelea verdadermante, with body and soul, leave a day in this city and across the sea to watch the sun?
